


Army of One

by JasnNCarly



Series: Jon Moxley (Dean Ambrose) & You [3]
Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Tumblr, choose two, greygirlmoxley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 08:09:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17280293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JasnNCarly/pseuds/JasnNCarly
Summary: Do you want to continue fighting alone?





	Army of One

“You don’t want to stay tonight?”

You have to laugh at the way he asks you questions; you roll onto your side, propping your head up - your elbow planted in your pillow, “If you want me to stay, you could just ask me.

“Yeah, but that would be like admitting I like you and shit.” Dean laughs loudly as you bite his shoulder with a playful growl, “Ow…”

You hug his bed sheet tighter to your chest, gasping sarcastically, “God forbid you have to admit you like the girl you’ve been sleeping with for—”  Counting mentally, you are completely thrown off guard when he rolls and throws his arm over you, kissing at your throat, “Just say you want me to stay, you stubborn jackass.”

“Maybe I want you to stay.” He maneuvers himself back on top of you, smirking as your legs encase him, “Maybe I’ll make it so you can’t leave…” Drifting his mouth along your collarbone, he adds a promise that makes you shiver, “…can’t walk.”

———–

“She thinks it’s a good idea to date a wrestler. You know the ones who are all over, doing whatever, before banging the hometown lay.”

You try ignore the sting of his words, a friend of a friend who was no friend of yours. When your friend moves to smack his shoulder, you try not cringe at his look towards her when you cell phone rings. When you see Dean’s name, your heart is instantly a little healed – more than a week, and you were anxiously awaiting a visit from him, “You in town yet?”

“Yeah, I’m on my way to your place. Meet you there in—” He’s cut off by the jackass getting into your friend’s face and grabbing her.

“Hey!” You drop your phone and close the distance, pushing him off her, “What the hell are you doing, man!”

He smells of cheap beer as he closes in on you, “Oh, I see someone else needs a good spanking.”

“Back the fuck up!” You roar as loud as you can, wanting to gain some attention and planning your attack; when a stranger steps in, the two men start exchanging blows so near your face that you scream and push them both with all your might. You friend pulls you over to her, somewhat fascinated by the bar fight that has now received the attention from a bartender and cook.

When things finally settle down, you grab your phone again to see your call was ended. Texting as fast as you can, you hope he checks his phone long enough to see,  _I’m okay. Stupid fight. I’m on my way home. I can be there in ten minutes._

———–

You pace your living room, praying he reads your text message rather than seek you at some your local spots; you don’t need him reacting to something so minimal.

When you hear the loud pounding on your door, you rush to the door and swing it open, “Dean, did you get—”

Dean comes into the house, slamming the door shut, and immediately examines you, “I have to know if someone put their hands on you, and I need you to take me to find them.”

“It wasn’t like that I swear. It was—pointless.” You wrap your hands around his wrists as he brushes your hair behind your shoulders, “Someone said something stupid, got handsy, then got their ass kicked by someone else. It was fine.”

Gently cupping the curve of your neck on either side, his eyes suddenly drill holes into yours, “I’ve never heard you scream like that.” 

“I—it—they were just close…I was surprised more than anything.” You kiss his palm, moving his hands down and around you, “I didn’t mean to scare you, Dean. I—that usually doesn’t happen, but – of course – because we might be getting serious…it happened.”

“I don’t want to hear that again.” He walks with you in his arms, him stepping forward as you step backwards – trying to hide your smile, “I need you to take better care of yourself, (Y/N).”

“Just can’t admit you like me, can you?”

“I don’t like you. You piss me off more than any woman I’ve ever met.” The two of you fall onto your bed, you slightly deflated as he begins to stroke your hair, “It’s probably the reason I’m in love with you.”

You weren’t even trying, and he had sent you soaring with the admission. Part of you wants to ask him a thousand questions, tell him how much it means, but you know better. Pulling him into a kiss, you know that Dean appreciates more show than tell.


End file.
